Review: "The House That Jack Built" is Just as Appalling and Enjoyable as You'd Expect from Lars von Trier

Scene from The House That Jack Built

There's a certain mythology that has almost become essential to appreciating any Lars von Trier movie. If hundreds of people don't walk out of the world premiere at Cannes, is it really worth remembering? The fact is that von Trier has never been subtle, choosing to go for a more confrontational route that will carve itself into anyone that humors him for more than five minutes. It makes sense then that he would make a film like The House That Jack Built, which focuses on five incidents from serial killer Jack (Matt Dillon). It attempts to mix the story of murder with an exploration of how it is like art, citing composers like Glenn Gould and architecture for the sake of some bigger, highfalutin narrative. It's all a grander delusion to figure out what makes Lars von Trier the way he is. For those who don't want out, whose minds are morbid enough, it's another incredible film of moral depravity that has plenty to enjoy.

Whether intentionally or not, the story begins with a car jack. Jack is seen driving in a red van that becomes synonymous with his wandering doom. A woman on the side of the road (Uma Thurman) needs help because her car jack is broken. It's here that the realism begins to break and suddenly Jack's narrative, being spoken to an unseen body as if he's in a confessional with a devil priest, becomes hallucinatory. The car jack is a weapon, a motivator to the crimes he will continue to commit over the next two and a half hours. While the film's title is subverting a cutesy children's story, it may as well be referring to that car jack, for which everything else is built on. Because Jack felt intimidated to murder this woman, his whole life has changed. They're supposed to be random events, but there's a knowing misogyny built into Jack's delusional belief that everyone he killed asked for it. The audience knows he's dishonest and that this is HIS take on the story, which even then doesn't hide the horror.

Lars von Trier claimed to have studied serial killers to prepare for the film. To say the least, it's hard not to believe that. Matt Dillon's Jack is an unnerving prick who seems disaffected by his actions, finding more joy in fulfilling his sick O.C.D. and then proceeding to outdo himself. Depending on your constitution, the film is highly disturbing despite being more artful and restrained than Hollywood icons like Jason Voorhees. The R-Rated cut making the rounds takes out the scenes that would be deemed too graphic/disturbing and it may be for the best. Even then, the imagination of anyone in humanity performing those acts is awful. For whatever is offensive to Jack's career path, it should be noted that von Trier does plenty to make the appalling tale engrossing to those willing to peer deep enough inside the mind. 

The film is also a companion piece to the director's previous film, the sexual epic Nymphomaniac. The aesthetic is fairly similar, as both deal with figures exploring their personal obsessions in relation to a greater picture. It's as much about the history of the person as it is the art that surrounds them. For Jack, it is the art of architecture that he initially starts off doing. He goes into detail about how to build cathedrals and suggests that it's similar to ending a life. It's a far fetched idea, but it's the perfect subtle tool for von Trier to show how shameless Jack becomes by the end. Suddenly his love of architecture is replaced by the idea of obsession and how violence informs entertainment. At one point von Trier even presents a montage of clips from his older films. It's all a grander commentary of him as an artist, and it feels like the director trying to understand his own impulses. Why is he so attracted to the worst of humanity? The only sigh of the relief is that those with a pitch black humor will be able to appreciate the epilogue of the film as karma towards an awful man.

This is of course not a film for those who are easily disturbed by violence and definitely not those who like lengthy films that are nonstop confrontational and shocking. It's a film that has a repulsive surface level with an incredible performance by Matt Dillon. However, von Trier's brilliance lies in if you choose to dissect the entire package. What is real and what is delusional? There are moments where von Trier breaks reality with sped up cameras or other techniques to emphasize his own distance from Jack. However, it's still a film that explores Jack's life in ways that find a man mentally torn apart, unable to be reasoned with. He knows what he wants, and that's horrifying. It's because of these delusions that the film can be seen as a pitch black comedy at points, though to call it hilarious would be wrong. The House That Jack Built is a film that shakes the audience then demands for them to think about the headache it gave them. 

The House That Jack Built has a lot of power in the way that all Lars von Trier movies generally do. There's plenty that's unpleasant of watching Jack go about his life in such cruel manners. It may even be uncomfortable in an age where mass shootings are tragically omnipresent in American society. However, those willing to go deeper into more disturbing places will be rewarded with another film of human depravity that is engrossing enough to never lose the viewer. While the debate as to how seriously the themes of the film should be accepted will differ between viewers, the fact that Jack is a figure who is immediately awful and more disturbing under deeper thought proves to be an interesting experience. It's a film that will challenge your sanity, but that's the norm for von Trier these days. Proceed with caution